


The Rabbit and The Wolf

by Sweetie_T



Series: Fairy Tales Revisited [2]
Category: Fairy Tales - Fandom
Genre: Boy Saves Girl, F/M, Girl Saves Boy, It's the bad guy so it's ok, bloody death, cinderella story, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetie_T/pseuds/Sweetie_T
Summary: A princess and a blacksmith find love. Eventually.A revised Cinderella story.Part of my series of fairy tales. I've tweaked them each a bit.Enjoy!





	The Rabbit and The Wolf

Once upon a time...

There was one small kingdom settled in the midst of several others. The king and the queen were fair and just rulers and their people loved them. 

One terrible day their carriage overturned with them inside and they both perished, leaving behind an adult son and young adult daughter. The daughter took after her parents and was kind and good... but the son was greedy and cruel and he favored those who greased his coffers.

So those with money lived in luxury while the poor went hungry and abused. Thus was the way of things.

\-----

Penn was the apprentice of the kingdom's most successful, famous and greedy master blacksmith, Og. Og had apprenticed under the even-handed guidance of the previous master blacksmith, who was himself gentle and patient and appointed personally by the late queen.

Og did not follow in his mentor's footsteps, however, and as soon as Penn came to him at the age of seven to begin his apprenticeship he had treated the boy very cruelly- barely feeding the lad, regularly beating him, and withholding his earnings, spending the boy's hard earned coin on women and ale.

Despite living fully two thirds of his life under the heavy hand of his master, Penn was quick with a smile for those who treated him kindly, and he always quoted fair prices. When the struggling farmers would come in with dull blades he would sharpen them in return for only a handful of vegetables or a few eggs.

Og had caught him thusly several times over the years and each time had beaten him severely. Penn's body was a map of his hard life, barely an inch of his flesh was left without some type of scarring, either due to beatings or contact with glowing red metal. There was a particularly nasty scar on his left cheekbone which was the result of both at once.

Still, Penn wasn't overly concerned with his looks. He was proud of what his body could do; his massive shoulders and biceps allowed him to pound hot metal into rough shapes and his dexterous hands made it possible to coax it into stunningly beautiful works of art.

Penn eagerly anticipated the fast approaching day he would become a master in his own right, and stand proud and free of Og's oppression, a man of his own at last.

\-----

Cordelia was the beautiful, charming princess of the small kingdom. Ever since her parents had perished she had found herself under her older brother Lucien's strict and infuriating control. Her brother was proud and materialistic with more coin than he could spend in a lifetime, confident in the knowledge that anything he could ever desire lay at his fingertips.

Well... almost anything. His deepest desire at the current moment was to marry off his sister to a powerful ruler, acquiring trading privileges with any one of a number of wealthy neighboring kingdoms. 

He didn't give one whit to his sister's happiness. He never had. So Cordelia, characteristically so gentle and proper, found herself bristling rudely at each suitor he invited into their home to ogle her like a prized pig. She made it a point of pride to behave so horrifically that she drove each of them away in a flurry of outrage.

Her mother had taught her well, and she knew how to behave like a proper princess. So whenever a boorish lord or monarch dared speak over her, through her or down to her she just behaved opposite her training.

One suitor ignored her completely, asking Lucien about her character and flaws while sitting right next to her, as if discussing a prized head of livestock. He was sent running when she overturned his wine goblet over his thick head, querying demurely if that action had answered any questions he had about her character.

The next was the opposite. He barely glanced at her brother. He barely glanced at her either. Well... Not at her face at least. After an entire evening of the cad speaking directly to her décolletage she had had enough and poured her own wine goblet directly in the weasel's lap.

Their latest guest had just left in an indignant huff and Lucien was livid. Cordelia was still seated at the table, but her brother was pacing like a caged beast. He was so angry he could not speak. He did not look at her. And the few times she tried to defend herself he put up a hand to silence her. So she sat, and impatiently waited for his temper to burn itself out.

She knew she would be waiting a fair while, as her brother's temper was legendary. He had never raised a hand to her, not due to kindness or brotherly love, but because he knew that any lasting damage at all to her unmarked body would harm his chances of acquiring a wealthy ally.

"This was the eighth prospect you have driven away. EIGHTH!..." He continued pacing, pausing to glare fiercely at her, venom dripping from his lips. "I would have thought you eager for the chance to be married off. Acquire a household of your own to run. But I am starting to believe you intend to live out your days under my tender mercy."

She winced at the thought of that. She was not particularly interested in becoming the wife of a pompous, domineering carbon copy of her brother. Growing old under the crushing weight of Lucien's thumb, however, was an even more terrible notion.

"Not such a pleasant thought, is it?" He sneered at her.

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, refusing to look at him, which made him even angrier. He strode up to the long table to stand before her, leaning on his hands and looming over her threateningly. He waited, silently seething, until she finally looked up at him.

"The annual masquerade ball will be held in a fortnight. I am inviting the remainder of your available suitors. You will obtain and accept the proposal of one of them before the end of that evening." He took a breath, attempting to calm his rage enough to continue speaking. "If you do not... I shall refuse to entertain any proposal you may receive until the end of time. You will remain here, my charge, following my orders, obeying the house rules of my future wife until the day you die."

Cordelia tried very hard not to glare at him, her hands fisting under the table, her jaw tensing. He stood slowly, his rage settling to an icy distance.

"Be grateful I am allowing you a choice at all, sister." His voice was frozen metal and it made her shiver. He turned and left her, alone in the dining hall, as she blinked back the tears she had refused to let fall ever since her parents' death.

\-----

The castle was a flurry of preparations for the next two weeks. A feast was prepared, Cordelia was fitted for a gown, the castle was scrubbed from the highest tower to the dungeon floor.

Long before she was prepared to face her future, the night of the masquerade arrived.

Cordelia was dressed in pearl grey silk, the sleeveless dress fitted tightly above the waist and flowing voluminously below. Her elaborately decorated mask was crafted from fine strips of both cloth and metal, fitted with feathers and made to look like a delicately-featured doe rabbit. Her hair was swept up in a complicated twist, and the silver locket that contained her parent's portraits affixed round her throat completed her ensemble. She felt every inch the princess she was. And she was utterly miserable.

Her brother had graciously introduced her to each of the three suitors who had attended the ball.

One man was ancient and dressed all in black. She thought he looked like a vulture with his pale, gaunt features beneath an angular mask, the skin on his neck loose and red, and his voice rasping and wheezing when he greeted her, his hooded eyes gleaming unpleasantly. He made her feel like an animal near death and she would not have been surprised had he circled her with menacing intent.

One was dressed in lime green. Squat and wide, every inch of bare skin damp and beaded with sweat, and his eyes positively bulging beneath his rounded mask, he reminded her of a great toad. He even croaked his abrupt greeting at her. He seemed mortally offended when she mentioned the pleasant evening, as if he believed a woman daring to utter a single word was a cardinal sin.

The last was draped in gold and violet, his costume even more elegant than her own. He wore cascading diamond earrings and a matching necklace, high heeled diamond-encrusted shoes with daintily curled toes, and his jewel encrusted mask was made to look like a peacock's tail. He wore powder caked thick on his face and his lips and cheeks were lacquered with rouge. His demeanor and his voice dripped thick like honey, and something about him made her skin crawl.

Cordelia's last chance had turned out to be a bust. She flatly refused to dance with anyone, waving away every man at the ball, planted firmly in the corner, alone. She allowed herself to wallow in despair at her meager prospects, feeling utterly hopeless. Her future had never looked more bleak.

\-----

Penn toiled very hard for many days to make sure he was caught up with his work in time to attend the ball. He fashioned a breathtakingly beautiful mask out of metal and fur, decorated to look like a sly fox. True, he had only his blacksmithing garb to wear, but he had cleaned and mended it carefully, and was looking forward to a rare evening of merriment.

Og had not bothered to finish his work. He had drunk himself into oblivion every night for the last week. Tonight he was sober, and he was bitter. He catalogued his pile of work-to-be-done and eyeballed his apprentice, who was tidying his station, finished for the evening.

"Oi! Kid! What'cha think yer doin'?" His whiny voice raised to an ear-splitting pitch.

"My work is complete. I am going to attend the masquerade ball." Penn whistled as he doused the fire in the bellows. Og glared at him, a sly gleam in his eye.

"Yer not done 'til I say, boy... And I don't say." He gestured with his chin to the pile of unfinished work before snatching the mask from Penn's hands. A corner of the mask caught Penn's cleaned and mended shirt and tore it open wide, thankfully missing breaking his skin by a breath.

Og smirked at Penn's glare, and affixed the sly fox mask to his own face. "Suits me fine, boy. Appreciate it." He said, as if the mask had been a gift. With that Og turned away and marched his way up the hill to the castle.

Penn stood, numb but not surprised, pausing just a moment and sighing wearily before relighting the fire in the bellows, and getting to work repairing the pieces in the pile. His reputation had exceeded that of his mentor, and people in the kingdom hired him for anything intricate or difficult, Og getting only the simple, quick fixes. Thus, he was finished fairly soon.

He fished in his trunk for another mask he had nearly finished making. He was a skilled weaponsmith and armorer, but in his spare time he enjoyed crafting more delicate pieces out of scrap materials. He had been making masks in anticipation of the yearly masquerade, and had run out of time just before finishing what was turning out to be his favorite design. He finished the final details quickly and doused the fire in the bellows, finally done for true.

It wasn't until this moment that he realized with irritation that, though he was finished with his work, his garb was filthy with ash and sweat and also torn beyond repair. He sat heavily on the bare dirt floor and gazed longingly at the mask that would have been perfect for tonight.

\-----

"Ahem!" The tailor who owned the tiny shop across from the blacksmith's was leaned over Penn's counter, gazing down at him fondly. The tailor had had his business across from the forge since before Penn had started his apprenticeship. He had always looked out for the boy, making sure he never wanted for extra food, warm clothes or a kind word.

Penn smiled up at the older man, his legs bent and his fingers running over the mask on his knees. "Gudfar! How are you this fine evening?"

"A mite better than you, it seems." The tailor motioned to Penn's ripped shirt. "What happened here?"

"Oh..." Penn winked and looked up at Gudfar. "Og decided to add some ventilation to my shirt for me. Gets fairly warm near the bellows."

"At least you're not coated in blood this time..." Gudfar muttered under his breath before smiling warmly at the boy. "You'd better hurry, lad. It's nearly dark."

Penn stood, brushing the dirt off his trousers and wrinkling his brow, confused. "Hurry? Whatever for, Gudfar?"

The tailor grinned slyly and raised his hand from beneath the level of the counter, presenting Penn with a finely stitched costume, black and grey with threads throughout of shimmering blue, matching perfectly the shade of Penn's shocked eyes.

"I'd noticed you preparing for the ball this week and I wanted to contribute to the cause."

Penn reached out slowly and let his fingertips almost touch the fine fabric. He found he could barely breathe. He pulled his hand back and shook his head "Gudfar... This... this is too much. I've never even touched material this fine, let alone worn it."

The tailor smiled and shook his head, pushing the costume toward the younger man. "I have always thought of you as a son. Truly, if you had not shown such incredible skill with the metal I would have offered to take you on as my own apprentice... You would honor me greatly if you would wear this outfit tonight. Go, have a wonderful time. All I ask is that you dance at least one dance. For me." The tailor gestured toward his crippled leg. "Oh, and when people ask you where you got your wondrous costume, and they will, send them my way." He winked and grinned at the stunned boy.

Penn reverently accepted the clothing, then hugged the older man fiercely with the arm not gingerly cradling the fine costume. "Thank you, Gudfar." He whispered hoarsely.

Penn bid the tailor goodnight and pulled the shutters to the forge, using the bucket of dousing water to scrub himself quickly, and changing into the fine clothes with haste. Leaving the forge at a brisk pace, busily affixing the mask to his face, he nearly walked smack into the tailor's beloved chestnut mare. Gudfar was holding the reins, and stopped Penn with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Nearly dark, son. Too near to walk. Take her for the night." The older man handed him the reins, and Penn took them, gratefully.

"Thank you again, Gudfar. I will bring her home safe."

The two men smiled at each other and grasped forearms for a moment before Penn mounted the horse. Gudfar gripped the reins once more briefly.

"One more thing, son... You hold your head high tonight. You truly do look as fine as any prince." The tailor said, his voice filled with pride. He slapped the rump of the horse and watched Penn ride away toward the castle and, with any luck, toward his future.

\-----

Lucien approached his sister, a warm smile on his face that was in no danger of reaching his eyes. He offered her his arm. "Dance with me, sister." It was not a request.

Not wanting to anger him any further than she already had by refusing the last of her suitors, she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to pull her into the center of the ballroom. He skillfully led her into a lively waltz, keeping his touch light and his face neutral.

"Cordelia... What do you think you are playing at?" He spoke quietly, despite the fury apparent in his tone. "Do you want to spend the rest of your days on this earth under my control?"

She grimaced at that notion and then dared to glance at each her three suitors, grimacing further. "I... I just..."

Her voice drifted and her steps faltered, both soon ceasing as her eyes settled on the dashing young man who had only just arrived. He was tall and broad with muscles that looked like they could snap her in half but the kindest, clearest blue eyes she had ever seen, which made her certain he would never try. His costume was masterfully crafted to accentuate his muscular build, black and grey and accented here and there with sparkling thread that matched his eyes and made them achingly blue. His mask was a work of art, crafted from metal and trimmed in grey fur. It gave him the countenance of a strong and masculine alpha wolf.

Cordelia's breath had stilled in her throat and she released it with a shudder. She removed her hand from her brother's arm and began to walk toward the wolf that had left her completely beguiled.

\-----

Lucien couldn't believe the audacity of his sister's actions, walking away from him mid-waltz, allowing the entire kingdom to see her treating him with so little regard and no respect whatever. He reached out and grabbed her upper arm, painfully hard. She stopped and whirled at him, incredulous at his gall. He had never dared to grab her in anger before. He stepped close enough to stare her down, towering over her.

"There are no suitors left to impress, sister." She had never heard his voice so evil. "I can do anything to you now. Anything. Do you understand? I can beat you, burn you, throw you in the dungeons with men who haven't seen a woman in years." He dragged a finger down her face, starting above her left eyebrow and twisting it down across her nose to end below her right jawbone. "I think... though... I will start by carving my name into your face." He smirked with sadistic glee at her helpless fear.

Her blood ran cold and she gasped, unable to look away from the eyes of this monster who shared her blood. Her mind reeled and she thought about trying to fight him off. Her fist clenched. And just as she was about to smash it with all her might into the side of his head, she saw another hand, strong and scarred, gently tap her brother on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, please, Sir, but may I cut in?" An angel. The voice had to belong to an angel. Rough and so deep she could feel it rumble in her chest. And at the same time so kind and gentle it made her want to weep.

Lucien turned his viper's gaze onto the slightly shorter man before noticing the entire crowd had their attention pinned to them. He gave the man a feral smile and placed his sister's delicate hand in the man's powerful one. "Be my guest." Lucien walked away and Cordelia saw the man... The wolf. She smiled shyly up at him and they bowed to each other as another song began.

\-----

He was a bit unsure of the steps, but he caught on remarkably quickly and was soon turning her about the ballroom with grace and poise. She found herself unable to look away from his eyes for even a moment. She felt as if her feet barely touched the floor. 

They danced through several songs before taking a break, both of them breathless, as much from the nearness to one another as from the dancing. She led him, hand in hand, to a quiet corner of the lush royal gardens.

They pressed their foreheads together and barely brushed noses, both of them closing their eyes and gasping for breath. He ran his fingers over her beaded and sequined waist and she tenderly stroked his face. He was amazed when she feathered her touch over the shiny red scar covering his left cheekbone with the same tenderness and reverence as the rest of his unmarked features.

"I... Um... You..." Penn began, at a loss as to how to put his feelings to words. But Cordelia understood completely. She just smiled at him, gazed into his eyes and put her arms around his neck, quieting him with a timid kiss. He was too surprised to return her kiss, and she pulled away, still smiling as he found himself just staring at her with blue eyes as big as the full moon above them, trying to recall falling asleep, because this surely must be a dream.

"Kiss me..." She beseeched him shyly, and it was then he knew it wasn't a dream. It was heaven and she was an angel. He pinned her against one of the garden arches and kissed her with a fiery passion born from a life lived hungry for love. She fisted her hands in his soft hair and kissed him back desperately, fully aware this may be the only pleasurable experience she would ever have with a man, and out of her mind with joy that it could be with this man, who made her blood sing and at the same time left her feeling safe and desired and cherished.

They clung to one another like two souls drowning in the dark. Both equally desperate to be loved and desperate to give it in return. And for a few wondrous moments, they were happy. 

\-----

A wave of horrified whispers rushed toward the pair through the crowd. Penn overheard the words "Gudfar" and "dead" and he broke the kiss like breaking out of the surface of an icy pond, gasping for breath, balance and orientation. He looked at his angel and muttered, "I'm sorry." And then he began to run. 

\-----

Penn didn't even register Cordelia's dismayed and shocked countenance or the offended murmurs of the aristocratic revelers as he shouldered his way through the crowd. At one point his mask was jostled, and it covered one of his eyes, impeding his vision. He untied it hastily and let it drop. It landed with a clatter of metal on the grand staircase leading from the castle.

He ran with everything in him to the tailor's chestnut horse, mounting her and riding away like a man possessed, unaware that Cordelia had followed him out of the castle, trying like mad to catch him and only just missing him, as the last echo of his crashing mask rang through the air. She lifted it, gingerly cradling it to her chest, the very last remnant of the complete stranger who stole her heart. One tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

She wasn't surprised to hear here brother's heavy footfalls or to feel his punishing grip claim her arm. He dragged her around the outside of the castle and hoisted her unceremoniously into a dimly lit servant's entrance, pulling her up the stairs to her own room. He shoved her inside and slammed the door with a reverberating bang. She heard him wedge something violently in the jamb and she knew the door would not open until he alone allowed it.

His voice was thick with menace, so full of wrath it made her shudder. "Goodnight, sister. Tomorrow is a new day."

She fell to her knees and could scarcely draw breath. Panic and despair enveloped her and she crumpled in a heap, surrendering to her new, horrific reality. She might have stayed there until morning brought her doom, collapsed on the floor of her bedroom, succumbed to hopelessness, if it weren't for a corner of metal pricking her chest, just above her heart.

She made herself sit up and that's when she noticed the mask... His mask... Her wolf... Still clutched in her hands.

\-----

Penn rode harder than he had ever before dared, pushing the mare to her limit and not pausing until he came to the tailor's shop. There were a few people milling about outside, sharing gossip in hushed voices. He made his way through them with just enough force to maintain his haste and soon came to the tailor's door which was slightly ajar. He was mortified to find puddles of blood darkening the soil at his feet.

He shouldered himself inside to find the baker woman leaning over the tailor's cot. He very gently moved her aside, dreading what he would find.

Gudfar looked at him with surprise. "My boy, what on earth are you doing back here so soon?" Penn collapsed upon the man's chest and wept openly, the relief so strong in his blood it was nearly painful. Gudfar gave the baker woman a soft look and she nodded, leaving the two men be.

"They were... They said... you were dead..." Penn managed, his breath ragged after the harrowing horseback ride and the adrenaline still flooding his system.

Gudfar rolled his eyes. "Nattering hens. I'm fine, son. Truly. Just fine."

Penn eyed him incredulously, still chasing his breath. "The ground is sodden with blood, there is a crowd just outside your door speaking in tones fit for a funeral and the baker woman you have been unsuccessfully pursuing for as long as I can remember was hovering over your bed. I am not a fool and you are not fine."

Gudfar couldn't help a satisfied smirk from curling his lips. "If I had known all I had to do to garner that beautiful old bat's attention was bust my leg again I would have seen to it ages ago."

Penn's attention was drawn sharply to the older man's heavily bandaged leg. It was propped on several pillows and the bangage showed just a hint of blood underneath.

"Oh, Gudfar... You need the surgeon."

"He's already been. Stopped the bleeding, set the bone. Then's where the rumor of my death was most likely born. I screamed like the devil himself was dragging me to hell." He chuckled softly, then looked, breathless, at the younger man. "Did you dance, lad?"

Penn grinned despite himself. "Aye. For what seemed like hours, all with the most winsome creature I have ever beheld." The old man's eyes crinkled with delight, focused on the middle distance, allowing himself to visualize the scene. "She kissed me..." Penn admitted softly.

Gudfar nearly choked with surprise. "Well, when are you seeing her again, son? A lass with such fire as that... You'd be a fool to let her go."

Penn's blood ran cold and his face fell. "They said you were dead... I... I had to leave... I never got her name. Never saw her face... She could be anyone."

Gudfar hugged the boy to his chest fiercely, feeling crushed for him, cursing his own damned clumsy gait.

"If it was meant to be, boy... You will see her again."

\-----

Cordelia winced as the sheet ripped with a bit more noise than she had intended. She had changed into the clothes she used when gardening, riding, practicing archery or throwing knives. She was going to need the leggings under her tunic, as a full skirt and bodice would greatly hamper her plans. The only finery she allowed herself was the silver locket around her neck, her parents' portraits tucked safely inside.

She had packed a bag with a spare cloak, a few coins and the rabbit and wolf masks from the ball, which judging from the lack of music and the clatter of carriages was just now ending.

She had decided to try and track down her mystery man, hoping madly he would be willing to assist her escape to another kingdom, one that did not have trading interests with her brother and would be unlikely to hand her over to him. Once there she would become a barmaid, a cook or a hunter. She truly didn't care as long as she wouldn't have to endure Lucien's temper for the rest of her days.

The mask was a grand clue, and she surmised her mystery man must be a noble who resided in her kingdom. The mask had the same delicate finery as her own, obviously expensive and crafted by the same hand. Her brother had commissioned hers, but she wasn't about to ask him where he got it.

Fortunately, she did recall a particularly skilled older tailor with a limp who owned a shop in the village market. He would most likely recognize the brocade on the silk accents of the rabbit mask or recall a hunter peddling the fur trimming the wolf. She would visit the village and seek him out, asking if he knew anything about the person who crafted them, hoping the craftsman would point her to the man who commissioned the wolf mask.

She finished cutting her silk sheets into strips and quickly tied them all into a long rope, securing one end to the leg of her bed. She slung her pack across her back and waited until the last of the carriages were pulling just out of sight. She checked to make sure her door was locked tightly from the inside, eager to stall her brother for as many moments as she could. Finally, she swung her legs out of her window and slipped into the world at large.

\-----

The sun rose obscenely early. Or perhaps his late night of drinking and women had made it seem that way to Lucien. He extricated himself from between two soft and naked common girls, quickly dressed before they woke, and left the bedroom, not caring to see either of them again. He couldn't even recall their names. Not that he had tried.

He made his way to his sister's room and wrenched his dagger from her door jamb so it might open again. He pushed on the handle... And it was stuck fast.

"Cordelia, love... Open up now. Your lord and master demands your presence." He listened hard but didn't hear a thing. Not the crying and whimpering he anticipated, nor the shifting of bed clothes, not even a stifled scoff at his audacious word choice. He slammed his fists against the expensive wood. "You are only making this worse, sister! You are using up the remainder of my charitable nature!" He landed an ineffective kick to the door before storming off to find a servant with an axe, an explosive or some lock picking tools.

When he finally managed to get the door open he was enraged at the empty room inside, the stripped mattress, the makeshift silk rope. But most of all he was livid upon discovering the note, set upon the vanity, written in his sister's elegant script. 

Two words- "Goodbye, brother."

\-----

Penn rose from a restless and tortured sleep. He woke early, like always. He prepared the dousing bucket and the fire for the bellows, like always. He lit the fire and accepted work orders, like always. And he waited for Og to wake and make an appearance, like always. Everything was routine. Except nothing felt routine.

Throughout the day Penn constantly oscillated between delirious daydreams of ecstasy, lost in memories and fantasies about his beloved doe rabbit, and the strangely vivid feeling that his heart no longer resided in his chest, leaving instead aching and emptiness in its place.

He worked steadily through both extremes, the highs and the lows. And the one constant was her. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her skin, the weight of her gaze, eyes dazzling as stars.

He was constantly reminding himself that it was a magical night, but he had no way to find her. Not even a place to start. And even if he did, what could he offer her? A life with a blacksmith... Her gown alone must have been worth at least two forges.

So he was determined to hold the memory dear as one of the most precious of his life, and to move on with his destiny.

\-----

Cordelia ran all night under the light of the moon, her dagger always at the ready in the event a predator tried to make her its dinner. She stayed close to the woods as she ran, knowing it would lead her to the village. She didn't slow her pace until dawn.

Daybreak found her on the outskirts of the village and it was here she slowed to a leisurely stroll, knowing if anyone saw her running as if for dear life it would seem highly suspect.

She slipped silently into the first barn she came across, and took a much needed rest concealed in a stack of hay.

\-----

It was nearly midday by the time Og woke himself from his drunken slumber and dragged himself, hangover and all, the short distance from his hut to the forge. He found Penn working hard on a suit of plate mail, all of the other work completed and ready for pickup.

He sat on his bench within the forge but as far from the bellows as he could get, finding the extreme heat made the pain in his head worse. He uncorked a bottle of strong ale and chugged it sloppily, hoping to cure his hangover. He tried to nap but Penn's constant pounding of metal and his still tender head made sleep impossible. 

 

So he just sat sourly and on occasion would wear a false smile and hand back a completed piece to those who came to pick them up, not hesitating to take complete credit for Penn's work.

\-----

Cordelia, having rested and found a drink of water in a stream, made her way to the village market. She browsed aimlessly at first instead of giving in to her heart's insistence and marching straight to the tailor's shop, wishing to draw as little attention as possible. She bought some fruit and a water skin with the coins she brought with her. 

After shopping for ages, she finally arrived at the tailor's shop. Her heart sank when she saw the sign saying it was closed due to illness. She pounded on the back door with frustration, crying out in desperation.

"Please! It's important, please..." Her voice broke, leaving her gasping and then she started to ramble. "The wolf... I love him... My brother... God help me... Save me, please..." And just as she was about to sink to her knees in defeat, she heard a soft and wise voice bidding her entry.

\-----

Penn had not taken a break all day. He found keeping busy helped distract him from thoughts of her. As the day wore on even the pleasant memories had become nearly too painful to bear, and with every ring of his hammer he cursed the name of every god he knew.

Og, on the other hand, was feeling a bit better and was unabashedly watching the women passing by with a lascivious gaze. Having worked the same spot in the same village for decades, he knew every woman by name, and a few a mite better than that.

His languid eyes became sharp and beady the moment he saw her approach. She was someone he did not recognize. She was young and lovely and new and he wanted her.

Eyeballing his scarred but rugged apprentice, his lip curled with irritation. The boy would surely make his pursuit of the girl nearly impossible. Penn wasn't the most handsome lad, in Og's opinion, but still he knew he didn't have a whit of hope of catching the girl's eye with the well-muscled boy beside him.

"Oi! Boy... You been workin' 'ard all day... Why not chip on down to the pub an' fetch us some ale?"

Penn looked up from the anvil with haunted eyes, his brow and body running with sweat. He nodded at the master blacksmith, accepting the coin Og held out and trotting away, opposite the direction of the beguiling young lady.

If Penn had been in his right mind at all he would have questioned the man. After all, Og had never willingly offered him a break in the last decade and a half. And he had certainly never parted with his own coin when he could avoid it.

\-----

"You are welcome to come in, child, but I do apologize. I'm in no fit state to mend nor sew today." Gudfar was groggy and in a bit of pain, but he was healing.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were ill. I promise I will be quick and then leave you to rest. I find I am desperate for a small piece of information that I have reason to believe you may possess." Her voice quiet and, she hoped, respectful even though she was so anxious for his answer her heart felt it might burst.

"If I do indeed possess what you seek you may consider it a gift given freely. What sort of information are you looking for, dear one?"

Cordelia smiled at the charming older man and lowered herself to her knees beside his pallet. She removed the masks from her bag, first the rabbit, which he thought looked familiar. And then the wolf, which he recognized for certain. His face quirked a tired smile.

"You know the maker?" She barely dared to breathe.

"I... Indeed I do, lass... The blacksm... Blacksmith... He..." Gudfar's voice began failing him and he realized he would soon be asleep once more.

"The village blacksmith?" She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice.

"Yes. Across the way. He... Um... He..." Gudfar started to struggle with keeping his thinking clear. She smoothed his hair from his brow and kissed it gratefully.

"You've said plenty and helped me a great deal, Sir. I don't know how I shall ever repay you. Rest now, and get better." She soothed his brow once more and by the time she left he was soundly asleep.

\-----

She left the room at the back of the tailor's shop as quietly as she could, and then looked for and spotted the forge. She ran to it straight away, and stopped before a round man with a ruddy complexion.

"Please, sir... I need to speak with the master blacksmith." She was breathless with excitement.

"Oi, right, missy. 'Ts me." He grinned at her, half of his teeth missing and half of them black. She hid a cringe and withdrew the wolf mask from her bag.

"Could you please tell me who purchased this mask?" She held it out to him. "It's important that I find him."

Og took a moment to study the mask, the gears in his brain creaking slowly. He cleared his throat. "Er... No one bought it. I wore it meself. Last night." He grinned at her again. "Good seeing you again. What can I do you for?" He leaned suggestively over the counter, causing her to take a step back.

She frowned at him and spoke quietly. "Tell me the truth... Please... I need to speak with him. It's urgent."

He shrugged his hunched and sloping shoulders. "Dunno what'd tell ya', luv. T's mine."

She scowled thunder clouds at him, about to make a scene that would probably get her recognized, caught and tossed into Lucien's dungeons, when Penn returned with two bottles of ale. Og scowled, knowing his chance with her had come and gone. Penn set the bottles down and snatched the wolf mask from Og's fingers. He looked up at the strangely familiar woman.

"How did you get this?" He asked her calmly, not even daring to hope.

"I found it... Outside the ball. Is it yours?" She couldn't look away from him. Deep down, she knew it was him. The blue of his eyes was imprinted on her soul.

He slipped the mask on his face, just staring at her, and she fished the rabbit mask from her bag, settling it in place. Each of them dropped their forgotten masks and reached for one another. Penn vaulted over the counter, he couldn't even wait the extra moment to walk around. He put his hands gently on her cheeks and just looked at her like a man dying of thirst and her eyes a mountain stream.

"I thought I would never see you again." He whispered.

Her hands curled into the soft hair on the back of his neck. She closed her eyes. "Me too." She whispered, just before pressing a kiss to his mouth. He kissed her back, her presence the antidote to a day spent torturing himself with the threat of her permanent absence.

She broke the kiss with a gasp followed by a bitter laugh as she remembered she was a woman pursued and her love was sadly without the means to procure her freedom. She pressed her forehead to his, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. 

"I thought you were a noble." She whispered.

He stilled, not even breathing, suddenly intensely insecure.

She caught the look on his face and gasped, pulling him close again. "That's not what I meant... I don't care if you are. It's just that...." She trailed off, knowing that by telling him the truth she would be putting him directly in the path of Lucien. She would be signing his death warrant.

Her mind whirled like an animal in a cage, scrabbling for a way out, a door, a window... A crack she could pry open. Only one solution occurred to her. She may have no clear escape, but it wasn't necessary to doom her beloved.

"I have to go..." Her heart broke inside her as his face crumpled, his glistening blue eyes now shining with unshed tears. She turned and ran before her courage fled, unaware that her precious locket lay on the ground by his feet.

Penn saw it and picked it up, seeing the back first, then opened it to the faces inside and finally closed the locket and blinked at the royal crest etched into the front. He ran his thumb over the symbol several times, puzzling it out for a few long moments before finally realizing what it meant.

Everything now made sense. Her gown something only royalty could afford. The way she guided him through the castle gardens as if they were her own... Because they were. Her disappointment that he was a commoner.

Why did she have to come looking for him? And when she found him... He was obviously not a noble, she would have been able to tell at a glance. So why did she cling to him, kiss him, smile at him... only to pull away... She had said she didn't care he wasn't noble but still she fled from him. He was so confused... And the pain in his heart was nearly unbearable...

"Metal don't pound isself, boy." Og was lounging on the bench again, either oblivious to the younger man's torment or paying it no regard. He had finished his own drink and was now a fair way through Penn's.

Penn had reached his limit.

For fourteen years he had done everything this man demanded of him with nothing in return but pain and neglect. In all that time this bumbling buffoon had not once, not ever uttered a kind word to him or about him.

Penn had borne the brunt of the brainless oaf's every mistake, every failure. He had handed over every success to this slime. This worm. This stain of a soul.

He had always stayed optimistic. He had always obeyed with a smile. He had never spoken up for himself or defended himself in any way.

That all ended now.

He stiffened his spine and uttered the one word he knew would hurt the man the most, the word that would haunt his dreams. The one word out of all of them that would completely destroy the master blacksmith... 

He said it calmly but firmly and with precision, not wanting there to be any room for misunderstanding.

"...Goodbye..."

Penn grabbed the doe and the wolf masks, and walked away.

\-----

Cordelia couldn't bring herself to surrender to Lucien. She had to try to fight or run. And considering Lucien had a royal army at his disposal and she didn't even have a sword, she decided to run. She ran through alleys and gutters, following the flow of water, counting on it leading her to another kingdom. If she could just get across the border...

 

It took her a few hours and a relentless pace but she imagined she had to be getting close to the edge of her kingdom. The village had turned to farm land and the farm land had turned to woods and now she was following the river through a meadow.

Twilight was falling and she was considering stopping for the night. Running through woods by the light of the full moon was one thing, but the chance of her falling into swiftly moving or freezing water was too great, following a river at night.

She found a soft, dry patch of grass, pulled her cloak out of her bag and around herself, munched the last of her apples, and waited for dawn.

\-----

Two steps from the forge Penn realized he had nowhere to go. He stood, stock still, and he was still standing there when the tailor's door opened and Gudfar appeared, sickly pale but determined. Penn rushed to him and helped him inside.

"Penn... My boy... Your lady... I... I saw her...." Penn settled the older man back in his bed.

"I know, Gudfar. I know. I saw her too. Rest now, you shouldn't have tried to stand." Penn's fussing filled the man with consternation.

"Damn it, lad, I didn't try to stand, I bloody walked!" He gestured to the space between his pallet and the door. "And... And where is your lass?"

Penn smiled sadly. "She didn't want me."

"Bullshite she didn't."

"She didn't!" Penn's voice turned weary. "She is the princess, Gudfar. The princess. She thought I was noble and when she realized I wasn't... She just left."

Gudfar contemplated things for a moment before speaking thoughtfully. "She came here to see me. Clever one, that girl of yours. She showed me some masks, thought I might know who the maker was. I tried to tell her it was you... Couldn't quite get the words right. Glad she found you, my boy." Gudfar smiled fondly at him.

"She found me. And then she left me."

"Let me finish, son! There was something... When she didn't know I was here, didn't know I was listening... Something about needing help... Something about her brother." He sighed. "Your princess is in trouble, boy."

Penn finally listened, finally heard his dearest friend. He thought of the tall man that was with her last night, the finery of his costume, the arrogance of his stance, the violent way he clutched her arm... It had been the deciding factor in Penn cutting in, extricating her from that monster... Her brother, he now realized. The infamous Prince Lucien.

No wonder she was crestfallen when she discovered he wasn't a noble. She had expected him to help her. To send fighters to save her or to use his wealth to buy her rescue.

And now... She was alone and she was afraid and she was being hunted by that sadistic animal. True, he had no fighters and he had no wealth, but he was strong, he was brave and he was in love. And that made him formidable.

Gudfar watched Penn come to his decision and the moment he did the old man gripped his hand. "Take my horse, lad. Take her and go find your lady and ride toward the setting sun and don't stop until you are both safe. I will be fine. I have the beautiful old bat to care for me." His face broke into a cocky grin, thinking of the baker woman. "Don't come back here, son. Just ride. Find her and take her away."

Penn fought back tears. He owed this man everything. Every smile or feeling of pride, ever since he was a boy. This man, this man alone was the reason he was not exactly like Og, crass and cruel. He had taught him kindness and mercy. What it meant to be a good man. Penn hugged him fiercely.

As he turned to go, Gudfar stopped him. "Lad! One more thing... I nearly forgot... When she was outside my door, didn't think anyone could hear her... She said she loved you, Penn. She loves you."

Penn swallowed the lump in his throat and looked the man in the eyes one last time, putting all of his gratitude and affection in that gaze, before mounting and galloping away on the horse as fast as he could, riding toward the sun. Toward his love. Toward his fate.

\-----

Cordelia had just nodded off into a restless, nightmare filled doze when the sound of thundering hoofbeats woke her. She crouched behind a small hill and prayed they wouldn't find her. Except... It sounded as if there were only a single horse. Her brother would have dispatched dozens of horsemen in pursuit of her.

She peeked over the edge of the hill and was shocked to see her wolf, riding like the devil himself were chasing him. She stood and waved her arms, breathing with relief when he turned the horse toward her and slowed.

She was so glad to see him she nearly forgot why she had run from him in the first place. But then she remembered. "Why are you here? You'll be killed..." He dismounted and captured her mouth in a desperate kiss, cupping her face tenderly, astounded that fate kept finding him worthy of her.

"I am never letting you go again." He whispered against her mouth. The two clung to one another for barely a moment when they noticed the ground rumbling beneath their feet, steadily growing louder. Cordelia knew, instantly. It was her brother's soldiers, and there were far more than dozens. He had sent hundreds.

\-----

Lucien led the charge, his men armed, armored, mounted and ready for war. His sister was clever, and she would have run for the kingdom with the border nearest their own. He sent a small retinue in three other directions just in case he estimated incorrectly, but he was confident he had not. Every few miles he would send his best trackers and hounds to look for her, and they assured him they still followed her scent.

He had told his men she was taken, kidnapped by the neighboring kingdom. It irked him that this was necessary. He knew they would not have come simply because he commanded it. But they would do anything for his kind and loving sister.

He was going to find her. He was going to make her pay for her insolent behavior toward him. And then he was going to make the rest of her days a special kind of hell. He looked forward to hearing her beg him for death every day for the rest of their lives.

\-----

Penn leaped onto the horse and pulled her up in front of him, pushing the exhausted mare to give them just a little more... Just a little. He guided her into the woods where she could slow, and rode her as quickly as he dared, cognizant that the moonlight was dappled under the canopy and the ground was uneven.

The hundreds of hoofbeats of Lucien's army came to a gradual stop just outside edge of the woods and frighteningly close. The sound of hounds baying at the fresh scent of their prey made Cordelia shudder and made him urge the horse faster.

He cleared his throat and whispered into her ear. "I was thinking... Seeing as we're in love... And running for our lives... Mayhap it would be appropriate to know one another's names. I am Penn, apprentice blacksmith. Wonderful meeting you, your highness."

He felt and heard a soft chuckle bubble from her chest. He instantly fell in love with the sound and she fell in love with the fact he could elicit it from her even under such dire circumstances.

"My name is Cordelia. And, as you have already surmised, I am princess of our kingdom..." She grew quiet for a moment and he gathered her more closely to his chest. "It's my brother, Lucien, hunting me. He won't stop and he won't negotiate. While I am so happy I got to see you one last time, I am so very..." Her voice broke and she stifled a sob. "...Very sorry you will be dying in my arms tonight."

He nuzzled her hair and kissed her head, unable to bring himself to regret being with her in her moment of most extreme and final despair.

\-----

The hounds had her. The trackers said she was not far.

Lucien felt his ire building. He called his men back, all except a single tracker and hound. Lucien would run her down himself. He would be the one to drag her back to his dungeons, fighting and kicking. He would be the one to plunge his knife into the gullet of the horse who carried her away and every man who helped her make her escape.

The tracker moved swiftly through the forest, the scent fresh and the hound excited. Lucien stayed with them, his eyes peeled in the gloom, desperate to catch a glimpse of his prey.

\-----

The forest opened suddenly onto a well-beaten path, and Penn instantly recognized where they were. He had no idea they had been so close... This was the trading route to the western kindgom. He traveled it once a month at least, delivering commissioned items he had crafted and obtaining metals for the forge.

He pushed the horse a bit faster, remembering the path was mostly smooth but also with ruts and crevices worn deep and random throughout. Usually it was not a concern because he traveled it during daylight. But now, he was aware a poorly placed hoof in an unseen hole could mean their end.

Another several minutes of riding and they would be safe within the borders of the western kingdom, free from the wrath of the prince.

\-----

The hound broke free of the woods, followed closely by the tracker and Lucien on his mount.

Finally the prince could see his target. A horse, steps faltering, obviously close to exhaustion, topped with a muscular figure and a more slender one... His sister.

He spurred his mount mercilessly, so close to his prey he could almost smell the blood he intended to spill.

\-----

The hoofbeats behind them broke something inside of Penn. they were so close to freedom... But not nearly close enough. They would be caught easily before they could cross the border.

He clung to his beloved, breathing in her scent. Whispering into her silken locks, "I love and adore you, Cordelia. Always. Ride hard, my love."

He kicked the horse sharply and jumped from her back, rolling into the landing and bounding to his feet. Her face haunted him as Cordelia looked back, features twisted in panic and agony.

Penn allowed himself to take comfort from the sounds of hooves riding steadily toward safety. He made a stand in the center of the road, gripping his knife and planting his feet. He would buy her time. He would fight for her, and he was fully prepared to die for her. He would face her brother and his entire army alone if it meant she would have a chance to live.

\-----

Lucien could hardly believe his eyes. The fool jumped from the horse and deigned to face him on foot. It would be laughable were it not so pathetic.

Lucien rode forward as fast as his mount would take him, reaching down with his blade, intending to slice the poor fool's head from his neck without even slowing.

The target grew steadily closer as Lucien charged and slightly adjusted his aim. If the idiot didn't move soon he wouldn't even have to stretch his arm to decapitate him.

He was so close he could see the lack-wit swallow nervously. Lucien leaned into the blade, imagining what it was going to feel like slicing through the man's throat.

And then, in a blink, everything was flying and upside down. He felt the exhilaration of unchecked speed and wondered vaguely if he were dreaming. He caught sight of a sky full of diamond-bright stars before his flight was abruptly halted with an explosion of anguish, every nerve ending lighting up in an inferno of misery. The intensity was such that he felt disembodied for a glorious moment before being violently thrust back into his still-breathing corpse.

His breath rattled and his heart stuttered. Distant sounds reached his ears- the shrieking of a horse and the gurgling of a dying man.

\-----

Penn steeled his resolve in the path of the charging horse and readied himself to parry the prince's blade, planning on grabbing him and tearing him bodily from the mount.

Just when they were close enough that he could feel the dust kicked up from the horse's hooves... the mount's leg crumpled beneath him and the horse screamed as he rolled. Penn jumped away from the tangle of limbs and bone, vaguely aware of a man flipping end over end before landing with a sickening crunch. 

Everything was suddenly still, the only sounds the cries of the dying. Penn went to the horse first, and used his knife to end its misery.

He turned to the prince and was shocked to see Cordelia approaching her brother, her face a mask of horror. She kneeled beside him.

"Oh, Luc..." She used the nickname from their childhood. "Why couldn't you just let me go..." She bent over his dying form and began to sob. He was vicious and cruel but he was the last of her family. And a part of her wondered if this was how her parents lived their last moments... Choking in their own blood.

Lucien lifted the arm that was not crushed beneath his mangled body and reached his bloody fingers out, gently grasping a lock of her hair. He had finally caught his prey. His torturous breathing stopped. And the cruel glint finally left his eyes.

\-----

Penn pried the prince's dead fingers from Cordelia's hair and gathered her, weeping, into his arms.

"He's gone... He's gone and you're safe." He scattered kisses on her temple. And held her until her wracking sobs ebbed and eventually ceased. "How are you here, my love, and not riding to your freedom? You should have let me go..."

She pulled away just enough to gaze into his eyes. "I followed your example and jumped. And I am never letting you go again."

They leaned together for a kiss but were rudely interrupted by the thundering approach of hundreds of hoofbeats.

\-----

Lucien's army came to a halt. Lucien's next in command jumped down from his horse and brandished his sword.

"You will unhand my princess immediately, scoundrel, and face punishment for your crimes. Kidnapping..." His eyes flicked over the body of his prince. "And the murder of a member of royal family." He lunged forward before stopping, inches from Cordelia's throat, as she threw her body in front of Penn's.

"He will do no such thing." Her voice was clear and strong. "My brother was unhinged and was pursuing me, his goal my death or imprisonment. He was violently thrown from his mount. This brave man was my defender, armed only with a riding horse and a dagger. He was prepared to die for me. He is a hero and he will remain unharmed."

Stunned stillness settled over the ranks. The soldier before them took in the grisly scene with new eyes and settled his gaze upon her before dropping to his knees. The remainder of the soldiers followed suit, dismounting and sinking low in reverence.

Cordelia's head swam as she realized... She was the last of her family. She was now ruler of her kingdom. She was queen.

\-----

One Year Later...

The coronation and the wedding were held consecutively one late spring day. The events culminated in the grandest masquerade ball anyone could ever remember attending. Cordelia's gown was even more elaborate than the one she had worn at last year's masquerade, which was unsurprising as it served as her wedding gown as well.

She moved very slowly, careful not to jostle the older man, dancing at a fraction of the pace of the other couples, but dancing nonetheless. The song ended and she kissed the royal tailor on his cheek, smiling fondly at him.

Gudfar beamed at her. He had walked her, very slowly, down the aisle earlier that day and placed her hands in Penn's at their wedding. She had met him barely a year ago but it felt as if she had always known him. He was as much a father to her as her own had been, and she couldn't help smile at the memory of him cornering Penn one day several months ago and interrogating him as to his intentions with her.

She released him into the tender care of the royal baker. Gudfar had married her scarcely two months ago, and the newly wed pair could not be happier.

Cordelia went looking for her husband, who had seemed to have disappeared at some point. She had to step round the local drunkard as she went outside. The guards had wanted to evict him from the festivities but the vagrant was harmless to all but himself, and it was the yearly ball, after all, open to everyone. The man was destitute, utterly without prospects, and perpetually inebriated. He wore a mask fashioned to look like a sly red fox.

She barely granted him a single thought and continued to the gardens, smiling at the sight of her groom, lounging in the corner where they had shared their very first kiss.

His blue eyes lit with delight when he saw her, as they had done every time he looked at her for the past year. He traced his fingertips over the silver locket at her throat. He had given it back to her in place of a ring on the night he proposed marriage, the same night she had become ruler of the kingdom. The same night he had saved her and she had saved him.

Since that night he had been appointed the royal blacksmith and his business was so successful he had taken on two apprentices. Speaking of... The boys ran past him and his bride, chasing each other through the gardens and giggling. He smiled fondly at them. Before looking back into Cordelia's mirth filled eyes.

"Are you happy, my queen?" She blushed and grinned at her brand new title.

"Very, my love. And you?"

He took her hand, pressed it to his face and kissed her palm. "I have never been happier in my life."

And they remained happy as two people could ever hope to be, the rabbit and the wolf, forever and ever after.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> 'Gudfar' is Nowegian for 'godfather'.


End file.
